


Treasure Box Stories

by Ivy_C



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivy_C/pseuds/Ivy_C
Summary: Greetings! This is a collection of short stories that are absolutely unrelated. To come up with these stories, I randomly select 3-4 objects from a box. Each object must be mentioned in the story, though it doesn’t need to be a large part of said story. I hope you enjoy!





	1. Story 1

Smoke curled through the dimly lit room as two men sat opposite each other, cards in hand and whiskey in front of them. Narrowed eyes observed their faces.  
“Call!” sounded one, while slamming his cards to the table, a smirk painted across his mustachioed face.  
“Tsk, fold.” grouched the other, a large distinctly walrus-like mad announced. A wiry young man wrote in his score book, large, glasses clad eyes darting nervously between the the two men as light laughter broke out around them. The small man reached in front of Walrus to sweep his collateral into the pile in the middle. Walrus’ hand shot out to wrap around the nervous mans wrist just as he was about to take the key chain with a medium circle of worn leather reading, ‘1817 + University of Michigan + which then circled around to repeat.  
“Not that.” Walrus all but snarled, yanking it away. The nervous man nodded quickly, sweating profusely.  
“Ah, ah. I’ve won. That belongs to me.” The man said, his taunting smirk growing as he aimed his handgun at Walrus. Walrus grew red and purple, fear and fury flashing in his eyes as he slowly set down the key chain before putting his hands up, palms out.  
“Twas a pleasure playin’ with you, sir.” said the winner, holstering his weapon. Snatching up his winnings, he whistled a tune as he walked out the door to observe his new vehicle. Soon enough, he spotted a green farming truck in good condition. Unlocking the vehicle, he checked the gas, eyes widening slightly in pleasant surprise as he noted that the tank was nearly full.


	2. Story 2

A frail old man slowly made his way up an ancient, creaky, wooden staircase leading up to the attic, fingering a worn silver key ring holding four worn silver keys, each a different length and style. A disturbing leer grew on his face the closer he got to the old wooden door with paint peeling off, the wood itself splintering and damaged by water. In his other hand he clutched a dried red rose, a gift for his.. ‘guest’. Eventually, he arrived at the door. Quietly, he unlocked it and slunk inside, leer impossibly wide and eyes touched with madness. He spotted his guest, sleeping in a corner curled into a ball. Her wrist bore a dead corsage, flowers crumbling and black ribbon frayed. Her black and deep, wine red dress torn and dirty. She had fear etched into her sleeping face and dried tears making tracks in the dust on her cheeks.  
The old man spotted the five old and worn coins he’d given her during his last visit across the room, and his face crumpled into an expression of fierce, mad rage.   
“You ungrateful little girl!” he boomed, startling her awake. She began to cry and whimper, curling into a tight ball in hopes of an escape that would never come to pass. He stomped towards her, slamming the door and raising his hand, chest heaving and pure, unadulterated rage in his eyes and across his face. He began to swing his hand down, but paused. His expression shuddered into one of peace and understanding as he instead began to slowly pet her hair.  
“Oh, sh-sh-shh little one. They just weren’t to your liking, that’s all! Here, look! I got you a rose! I had it dried so you could keep it forever!” he spoke softly to her, guiding her chin up to see his present, fingers digging in and eyes flashing as she attempted to resist. He smiled as she winced and pushed the rose into her trembling hands.  
“Please…. please let me go…” she pleaded as he walked back to the door. He turned back to her, and his smile grew.  
“No.” his voice light and terrible, so horribly happy. Panic consumed her and she sobbed as she reached for the closing door, eyes wide and wild.  
“Please!”  
*click*


End file.
